


I Faint in This Obscurity

by misbegotten



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: My name is Detective Sergeant James Hathaway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: Implied violence, involuntary drug use, other mayhem. Meant to be for the [fandomweekly](http://fandomweekly.dreamwidth.org/99235.html) challenge: amnesia, but it went a bit over the word count and I don't feel like editing it down.
> 
> As always, it's Dine's fault. Except the errors. Those are mine.

My name is Detective Sergeant James Hathaway. I have been abducted by Jonathon Harrison, suspect in the torture and murder of three Oxford students (see names and details attached). Dr. Harrison is a fellow at Mercy Hospital and has access to the wide variety of drugs used on the victims.

If you should find this message, please direct it to the attention of DI Robert Lewis, Thames Valley Police, Oxford. 

DI Lewis, if you are reading this, it was entirely my fault. Do not blame yourself.

*

My name is Sergeant James Hathaway. I have been abducted by Dr. Jonathon Harrison, murderer of three Oxford students. He has access to a wide variety of drugs, at least one of which he has used on me. If you should find this message, please direct it to the attention of DI Robert Lewis, Thames Valley Police, Oxford. 

DI Lewis, it was entirely my fault. Don't blame yourself.

*

My name is James Hathaway. I have been abducted by a man who has injected me multiple times with a drug. I don't know what drug. I know that I am a police sergeant, and that I work out of the Thames Valley Police, Oxford. Please notify them if you should find this note.

Lewis, it was my fault. Don't blame yourself.

*

My name is James. I have been abducted and drugged. I am having a hard time remembering details. I do not know how many days I have been captive. Please notify the authorities if you should find this note. Tell Robert Lewis that it is not his fault.

*

My name is James. I might be a drug addict. I don't feel like a drug addict, but there are track marks up and down my arms. I don't know where I am. I know that someone is keeping me here against my will. I can't get out. Tell Lewis that I can't get out.

*

My name is James. I have been kidnapped and tortured. I don't know why. I can't get away. If you find this, please help me. Tell Robbie to help me.

*

My name is James. If you find this, please contact the police. Tell Robbie.

*

My name is James. Tell Robbie I'm sorry.

*

I don't know where I am. I know that I am hurt. I am scared. I have tried praying. Tell Robbie I prayed. God is in everything.

*

I don't know why this is happening to me. Tell Robbie.

*

Robbie.

*

There is a name scratched into the wall. My fingernails are torn and broken. It says Robbie. Am I Robbie?

*

Robbie. Robbie. Robbierobbierobbie.

* * *

(Found in a drawer of the desk of Detective Sergeant James Hathaway)

To Whom It May Concern:

In lieu of a proper will, I make the following bequests:

My personal property and funds, with the exception of the item listed below, to the Oxford Theology Department to do with as they wish.

My guitar to Detective Inspector Robert Lewis.

* * *

Robbie's hands shake. That's the name etched on the wall. There is nothing else in the room but a bare bulb, a bed with straps, a bucket to use for piss, and a bottle of water. 

His hands shake because his arm is aflame. He needs another hit. Just one more. The doctor will be coming soon. The doctor is helping him. That's what he says. The doctor says he is helping him.

There is a bombardment of noise, and Robbie cowers. Shouting from somewhere above, and running feet, and noises of chaos. Robbie scrambles under the bed, his only refuge.

A door opens, sunlight pouring in. "James!" a voice shouts. There is a thunder on the stairs, coming down towards him. He pulls himself more tightly into the shadows.

"Sir," someone says. "I don't—"

"Shhhh." There is a face, looking under the bed. Looking at him. "James," its mouth says. "You're okay. Look, you're okay." The face looks calm, but the eyes are unbearably sad. "Why don't you come out, lad?"

Robbie doesn't understand. But there's something. Something in the voice. Something so familiar. It's on the edge of his consciousness. 

No, it's steeped into his bones.

He unfurls himself, takes the offered hand. There's a quick inhale of distress and then the man is shrugging off his jacket, putting it around Robbie's shoulders. "We'll take you to the medic, shall we?"

"The doctor." Robbie's voice is hoarse. "He is helping me"

Anger flashes over the man's face, but the man tamps it down quickly. "I'll help you. Come with me."

Robbie looks at the wall. "I'm—" He is shivering, he realises. The man looks at the wall too. Another sharp inhale. "I'm James?" he asks.

"Aye." The man leads him gently up the stairs. There are others, but he only has eyes for the man. "And I'm Robbie."

*

My name is James Hathaway, he thinks as he opens his eyes. He seems to recall that he has opened his eyes many times, but nothing has stuck with him, nothing but the reassuring presence of Lewis in the chair beside the bed.

Lewis grunts when he sees that James is awake. "Are you back amongst the living then?" he asks. James wonders how many times the question has been asked and answered.

"Yes," he replies. He hopes.

Lewis fetches him some water. He hovers a bit, peering into James' face in a way that makes James uncomfortable. Finally he says, softly and tinged with so much sadness, "You left me your guitar."

James tries on a smile. "The best part of me."

"Ruddy fool," Lewis says. His eyes glance towards the doorway, where a PC is hovering. "You can go," he tells her. She nods and retreats.

"And how," Robbie continues softly, "would anyone think to look for it at mine?"

James shrugs. "It was a contingency letter. I couldn't very well say 'give the guv my guitar if he doesn't already have it, and by the way we've been shagging for months'."

Robbie grins. Kisses James' forehead lightly.

"God is in everything," he says. "And fortune favors fools."

James lets his eyes drift closed. "Then we're both lucky."

"Aye," Robbie agrees. "We are."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "Ode to Memory" (1830)


End file.
